Listen, I know you’re as busy as Donald Trump’s hairstylists, but if you could carve out some time in your schedule, could you make it a point to remind me of the gorgeousness of life. Like that time I thought I would melt in the rain when we were camping, but I didn’t. Or that time I cooked a four course chef-worthy meal for my family that turned out just so. Or that time I looked up at the ceiling at the theater and gasped a breath of beauty simply because of the colors. In all honesty, it’s endless, the places I find and interact with beauty. The way my husband finds the perfect in-between hotel to stay at on our way to a big adventure. Those few moments, after I wrangle myself awake and I have the thought “It’s all very good”. The interactions I have with strangers on the street, in the grocery store, while I’m walking the dogs—how I feel deep down that I’d like to know these people. Please make it a point to allow me to open myself up enough to all of this revelrie that happens consistently and gloriously and that I find my way in my little world with elegant grace until my last dying day, okay amen you may be seated.
Yours In the Definition of Hope,